Author: John Lescroart Title: The Oath Genre: mystery
Ever have a conversation with a ten-year-old? your kid, your little brother, your niece, the fifth-grader next door? Get one of 'em excited, and the words just pour out like a waterfall in one long, run-on sentence: "...and then me and Joey...and we saw...and Ol' Lady Simpkins came out..." It's ten minutes of nonstop jabber larded with a hundred "ands," and twice as many commas, but only one period. It's endearing in a kid - you can't resist being tickled by that boundless enthusiasm. It's not as endearing in adults; it's even less likeable in writers (endless Victor Hugo, anyone?)
It's not merely sentences that become interminable in the hands of a hack writer with an inability to come to a point or a conclusion, whichever might come first. It's possible - probable, in fact - for such a writer to not sense when to put a wrap on his plot: "...and then the detective and I...and we saw the knife...and his fingerprints on the syringe...and the gorgeous Miss Simpkins lay dead...the suspect's fingerprints on the gun..." and on, and on. Should you ever want to read a prime example of a run-on plot (why?) I've got one for you: John Lescroart's The Oath.
Distill This Plot, If You Can!
It starts simply enough: the head honcho of San Francisco's Parnassus HMO, Tim Markham, is struck down by a hit-and-run driver one morning. Six hours later, Markham dies of massive injuries in the ICU of his own company's hospital. Or does he? An autopsy reveals an overdose of potassium stopped his heart and killed him, not his injuries. Suspicion naturally falls upon the treating MD, Eric Kensing. As for motive, well, we immediately learn that Markham and Kensing not only had a rocky professional relationship, but Markham was, errr, "corresponding" (as the divorce lawyers say) with Kensing's ex-wife (and had been while the two were married). ...The Plot Thickens...
The hit-and-run investigators checking out cars in Markham's neighborhood that very evening find Kensing just leaving the house (condolences, you know) and the very next morning Markham's widow, three children, and golden retriever are all found dead of gunshot wounds. An apparent murder-suicide by the despondent widow, since she has a bullet hole behind her right ear; it's cut-and-dried until the cops figure out that the late Mrs. M was left-handed... oops!...The Plot Twists...
Kensing's presence at the second murder scene raises more than eyebrows (though Lescroart conveniently fails to mention anyone ever looking for a motive), so the Doc drops a dime on our hero, Dismas Hardy. A criminal defense lawyer and ex -cop and -DA, Hardy not only defends his clients but also investigates the crimes (one hopes he doesn't charge a lawyer's hourly fees for the legwork). His investigation (sharing a couple of drinks with a fellow attorney) turns up a string of suspicious deaths in the hospital where Markham met his early demise, maybe even at the hands of an ICU nurse? ...The Plot Twirls...
Seems that Parnassus - the city's medical insurance provider - is going through hard times (aren't we all?), and the DA's office wants to use Markham's murder as means for getting into their books in the discovery process, so they can look through the records for questionable transactions. That puts Parnassus' Chief Medical Officer, Malachi Ross, in the hot seat - quite warm, seeing as he's one of the few who might actually have murdered Markham (of course Hardy's client didn't) plus he's taking kickbacks from drug manufacturers and manipulating corporate records and is an all-around unlikable guy. Not to mention that he's the only character in the book (besides the obviously innocent Kensing) who's taken... ta-da! The Oath!!! ...The Plot Wriggles Like A Hooked Trout...
So, we have 1) a lawyer who thinks he's a homicide cop, 2) a client who believes revealing his alibi is worth than being convicted of capital murder (duh!), 3) homicide cops who are content with a suspect's murdering "the other man" but don't seem to wonder why he'd murder the other man's entire family, and 4) a newspaper columnist who seems to have more information than the cops, the DA, and the defense put together. And putting all this down on paper we have a writer who doesn't find it odd that the CEO of a corporation big enough to own clinics and a hospital has time to deal with personnel matters? Or that the head doctor - yes, an MD - of an insurance company has somehow granted himself sole sysadmin privilege on the company's LAN? Or that the DA and the Chief of Homicide of a major city would let a defendant's lawyer direct their murder investigation? ...The Plot Shimmies Like My Sister Kate...
A Stone Fox (Kate Bock)
Whodunnit Becomes Whocares
I presume we're supposed to identify with Kensing: cuckolded husband, avuncular physician, doting dad - except it's hard to identify with a moron (never forget that 50% of doctors graduate in the bottom half of their class). It's also tough to identify with someone you can't visualize: Lescroart's sole description of Kensing comes early: long legs, "gray-speckled black hair," "an open, almost boyish face. His ex-wife Ann, later called a stone fox, also rates little description: "shoulder-length blond hair" and "deep-set, wide and compelling, almost electric blue eyes." No character has more physical description; most have even less. They also have darned near no back story or motivation, either; except for tidbits Lescroart dumps in to grease the bearings for his incessant plot twists.
The Rub
So. You wanna read some mindless pap full of slightly off-the-beam speculation about how an HMO works? Wanna read a "legal" thriller that has almost no "legal" aspect, but instead features a defense lawyer who thinks he's still a cop? Wanna read a "thriller" with more stinky red herrings than entire year's "Ellery Queen's Mystery Magazine"? Wanna read about people so sketchily drawn that they might actually be Dilbert and Ziggy? Wanna read a book that goes on twice as long as it should because the author keeps adding in unnecessary characters and plot devices? Wanna wonder why a group of friends would meet every lunchtime in a grubby bar whose entrance is "an unlit staircase - six steps to a set of leatherette double doors" even though one of their number is in a wheelchair? You want diversity in your flat characters: Hispanic, Asian, gay, male, female, fat, thin, but all stupid? You want all that? Go ahead and read The Oath.
You want to read something with believable characters, a plot that you can follow without a pad of sticky notes, and an outcome that you couldn't predict two chapters in? Read something else. Not recommended. Really not recommended.